By The Moon's Blade

5. Grasshaven, One Week Ago

The purple light flickers around the walls of the cave as I play with the orb between my fingertips, making them dance back and forth and in-between. I try not to crack a smile as confidence bubbles to the surface.

I was able to carry the Demonclaw to a small cave a couple of miles away from the site. They'll notice as soon as it doesn't return, so I have to hope I'm able to eke a little information out of the vermin. Just in case, I've lined the only entrance with a bit of brightstream and wardstones in a particular configuration. I've also etched the symbols directly into the dirt for good measure.

So here we sit in the cave, lumina orbs threatening my prey. For once, it's nice to be the predator.

Some piece of me feels guilty for the part I'm about to play, but that Lunarian heritage... my blue blood begins to boil and my skin itches for the chance to make this Demonclaw pay. So I bring forth another orb and begin to press it into its skin.

I tried a flame initially, only a slight wince in response. I moved onto a cold wind, which seemed to make even less of a dent in its mental armor. But as soon as I formed the first ball of lumina, I watched its eyes darken and could swear that it sunk back into its skin, doing anything it could to escape the light.

I take the orb I've been fiddling with and press it into its face, adding to the mounting burns covering its snout. But the burns don't look like an ordinary burn, they're almost frostbitten, the skin mottled and hard. And if I tug on any of the loose pieces of flesh, I know they'd come off with hardly any force.

"I'll ask again... What. Is. Your. Name," I demand, pushing that orb until I hear a wince, then I push even deeper.

The Demonclaw spits at me and with an instinctual grace, I swiftly draw Shimmersoul and push its face further into the ground, my knife at its scrawny throat. I'm surprised the beast is able to withstand such pain given the size of it.

But my surprise is dimmed as I bring the knife through the thick layer of fur and closer to its skin. It begins to scream, as if I've held a hot iron to its flesh, branding it.

"KARREKAN!" it finally shouts and I release the knife from its throat, his throat, and lean him back up against the wall of the cave.

Half of his face is cast in shadow thanks to the small fire I've lit in the center, and even though he is almost nothing but skin and bones, his face is still enough to send ripples of panic through me. Those fangs, they could slice through my throat as if it were made of butter. I tamp down my emotions and preserve my killer's mask.

"Thank you, Karrekan. Finally."

"It doesn't matter anyways, I don't know much. Even if I were to tell you everything I know, it still wouldn't be enough."

"Enough for what?"

He closes his eyes and sits in silence while I fidget with the hilt of Shimmersoul, trying to remember my purpose. I flip the knife a few times. It's not the time for revenge, it's not the time for revenge...

"I..."

He hesitates and I can almost taste the tang of fear poisoning the air. He's scared, more terrified than I could have ever expected. I watch his body laying on the ground, limbs tied up with knots upon knots, and I see him attempting to conceal his shaking muscles. But at this point, I don't know who he's more afraid of — me or his leaders.

I point the Shimmersoul at him and walk slowly towards him.

"You're going to answer some questions for me. And for each second you don't answer, I'll walk one step closer. Until eventually, this knife will slowly pierce through your skin, heart, spine. Bit by bit, it will break you down. The light causes enough pain to your surface, can you imagine how it will feel as it's embedded into your flesh?"